


A Helping Hand

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ficlet, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Nightmares, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has been human for a year now, and has been living in the bunker for six months, but it still shocks Dean every time he finds Cas sprawled on the couch or the library table, face planted in a book, snoring like a jackhammer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow my tumblr [here](http://through-shadows-falling.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I'm posting fics under the tag #destinea's spn drabbles.

Cas has been human for a year now, and has been living in the bunker for six months, but it still shocks Dean every time he finds Cas sprawled on the couch or the library table, face planted in a book, snoring like a jackhammer.

Dean’s lips twitch in amusement. “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” he says, punctuating his words with jabs to Cas’s ribs, causing the man to jerk upright with an undignified snort. Dean smothers a laugh at Cas’s hair, which looks like it’s never seen a comb in its life. Cas shoots him a glare that would’ve reduced him to ashes if he’d been anything more than human, but Dean knows he’s safe, especially when Cas grumbles something to himself and lets his head drop back onto the table, emitting a long moan.

“Come on, dude,” Dean continues, “I made you coffee.”

Cas’s groaning halts for a moment.

“Just the way you like it – four sugars and cream. Which I still find disgusting. But it’s on the counter, if you’re interested.”

Cas tilts his head, regarding Dean blearily through one eye. “I’ll be there in a minute.” His voice is low and gritty.

Dean makes a face at him. “Uh-uh. No more falling asleep. Ever since Sam and Kevin went on their stupid trip all you’ve  _done_  is slept. Live a little, man.”

“I’m  _reading_ ,” Cas mumbles.

“Like I said,  _live a little_. You feel better now, right? Get some sunshine or something, I dunno! Just stop sleeping!”

Cas makes an appreciative noise. “Are you suggesting we tend to the garden?”

“Pfft. If you want to, go ahead. I don’t  _do_  any of that weird…plant crap.”

“You seemed to like the tomatoes.”

Dean squares his jaw. “Shut up or maybe I’ll mix up the salt and sugar and put some in your coffee.” Sniggering, he heads to the kitchen, remembering Cas’s face after tasting the results of Dean’s prank. Cas had looked like he wanted to murder his own tongue for betraying him, and Dean had laughed so hard he cried.

He chuckles now, thinking of it, absently tugging at his bathrobe as he leans against the counter and grabs a mug, waiting for Cas to shuffle in. He takes a sip, breathing in the aroma, and smirks as Cas staggers into the room, his hair still a mess and his face covered in lines from where the edge of the book dug into his cheek. His eyes follow Cas as he grabs his mug and mirrors Dean’s posture, sighing as he swallows.

They’re both quiet, the only sound the humming of the bunker’s ventilation, and the occasional puff of the coffee machine turning itself off. Dean yawns, grimacing as he cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders.

“Damn, slept funny,” he says, breaking the silence at last.

“I thought you and your mattress had a good relationship,” Cas replies, deadpan, and Dean huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rag on the memory foam. You don’t know what you’re missing. And it’s not her fault. I just… You know, one of those nights…” he trails off, biting back the words that bunch at his mouth. Not like Cas needs to hear them. He knows what nightmares are like, especially the paralyzing ones that you can’t wake from, that make you endure every last moment before finally letting you go.

Last night was Hell. Last week, Purgatory. A few weeks before that, his subconscious combined them. Dean never knows what will happen when his head hits the pillow, what ghastly images his mind will dredge up or create. He’s not even sure why, as for perhaps the first time in his life, it’s been all quiet on the home front. Angels popping up, sure, occasional hauntings…but somehow, Garth’s been calling them less, and that hasn’t bothered Dean as much as it used to. And Sam, well, the kid’s used the lull to take stock of the bunker and try to update and preserve the Men of Letters’s notes and historical documents in an easily accessible form. He managed to enlist Kevin’s help with the promise of ‘new technology,’ and though Dean was hesitant, he had let them go on their little road trip to investigate some guy’s prototype. It was a machine that Sam had attempted to explain to him with feverishly excited eyes, and Dean had just waved his hands, giving up after the first multi-syllabic word hit his brain.

So it’s just Dean and Cas now, mostly because Cas was still getting over a cold when Sam and Kevin were packing, and Dean had volunteered to stay behind so the guy wouldn’t be alone. Plus, Dean’s was a different brand of nerd, and he didn’t think he could stay sane in a car full of people turned on by binary and blinking lights.

Dean’s smiling to himself as he finishes his coffee and wanders to the sink, hastily washing his mug and setting it in the strainer. He goes to wipe his hands on the towel hanging off the stove and accidentally flicks it onto the floor, cursing as he bends to pick it up, his shoulders protesting strongly. Dean straightens and twists, trying to relieve the tightness, as he finishes with the towel and replaces it.

“Damn, they really ache today,” he comments. “What’s it gonna rain or—?”

“I could help, if you wanted.”

Dean blinks at Cas, whose face reveals nothing. “Uh…what?”

“Kevin gave me one of his laptops, and I’ve been doing research on the human body.”

“Okay…?”

Cas releases a long-suffering sigh. “Massage. I can massage your shoulders.”

Instantly, Dean flinches away. “No thank you!” he says too quickly. “I’m fine! I’ll just…I’m fine! I’m going to get dressed and go out and work on Baby. Call me if you need me!” He bolts to his room and doesn’t look back.

He spends the rest of the day making good on his promise. By the time he’s done, Baby is shining so bright he can see his reflection in her polish. He’s humming his favorite song as he walks into the kitchen to wash up, wondering what to cook for dinner, and runs into Cas, who is drinking a glass of water.

“How’s the garden?” Dean asks.

Cas is in dirty jeans and a ripped t-shirt, and his scruffy face is obscured beneath a large sun hat. “There are a number of cucumbers growing. And some squash. I fear bugs have gotten into the beans, though.”

“Oh. That sucks. Should we run out to get pesticides?”

Cas scowls at him and Dean throws up his hands.

“Alright, fine, never mind. Geez. I’m just saying it could make your life easier.”

"That’s not the point.”

Dean shrugs. “Whatever. We’ve all got our hobbies, I guess.” He glances at the clock on the microwave, frowning. “You get a call from Sam or Kevin? They were supposed to check in an hour ago.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve been outside, and I didn’t hear anything when I came in.”

“No messages?” Dean glances at the answering machine, with its fat red zero. Chewing on his lip, he digs his cell phone out of his pants and flips it open, clicking on buttons and confirming that he doesn’t have any voicemails. “They didn’t text you?” he adds.

“No,” Cas says, now examining his phone. “Dean, I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Well, Sam, yeah, I mean, he’s a hunter. But what about Kevin? And if they got separated? Does Kevin even carry any weapons on him?” Dean starts pacing, stopping finally to brace himself on the back of a kitchen chair.

“Dean, I’m sure they’re fine,” Cas repeats, watching him. “Both your brother and Kevin are intelligent men who have bested creatures far superior to them. You should not worry.”

“Yeah, well I’m the one who let them go on this stupid trip – dude, what are you  _doing_?”

All of a sudden, Cas is behind him, a light-feathery touch on Dean’s shoulders, and then two hands pressing firmly.

“Sit, Dean. Relax.”

Dean sits in the chair but bends out of the way of Cas’s hands. “Are those even  _clean_?”

Cas frowns and inspects his hands. “Yes, they have been washed.”

“No, but…” Dean starts, unsure where he was going with that. He shakes his head. “I don’t need… Guys don’t  _do_  that—”

“The man I learned it from on Youtube speaks otherwise,” Cas interrupts, his hands hovering in the air, seeking permission. “I’ve tried these techniques on myself and I found them to be very beneficial, though my reach was limited. This will help you feel better.”

“I don’t need to feel better!” Dean snaps, nearly leaping up from the chair but catching himself at the last second. “I just need Sam or Kevin to call me and tell me they haven’t run headfirst into something stupid!”

“They’re not like that. You should trust them.”

“Are you really telling me to have faith?  _You_?”

Cas huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Yes, Dean, I am. You worry about them too much. You should worry about yourself. You know, there are ways to relax your mind as well, to help prevent the aftermath of nightmares—”

“Jesus, Cas, you’re not my frigging  _mother_! Just leave it—!” But his words cut off as Cas settles his hands on Dean’s shoulders, stilling him.

“Just calm down, Dean. It’s alright. Relax.”

“Cas,” Dean warns.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he says, slowing kneading his hands into Dean’s back. He presses hard with each fingertip, rolling them out, applying extra pressure with his thumbs.

“Cas,” Dean says again, but his voice is conflicted. “Cas, I don’t—”

“Relax, Dean. Just…let go.”

And Dean…does, at long last. At first, he’s still a little tense, not sure how to feel with another man touching him. But Cas taught himself well, as Dean quickly turns to putty under his ministrations. He even closes his eyes, breathing deeply, letting Cas smooth out his knots and work deep into his muscles until they feel lighter than air. It feels so good that Dean doesn’t even register that Cas has pulled away at first. When he does, he opens his eyes and glances behind him, where Cas is staring at the floor, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you with your nightmares anymore,” he says quietly, and Dean doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he reaches out to take one of Cas’s hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Just being here helps,” he promises, and Cas’s breath hitches.

“Dean…”

Suddenly, there’s something very palpable between them, and Dean’s aware of how closely his lips are lingering near Cas’s skin. Pressing another kiss in between his knuckles, Dean tastes salt from his sweat, and a faint hint of flowery hand soap. But it’s not enough. He wants to taste more.

The chair falls as he stands, and then Dean’s crowding Cas against the refrigerator, releasing his hand so he can cup Cas’s face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says huskily, and then it’s Cas who’s surging forward to bring their lips together. While Dean continues to cradle his face, Cas plants his hands on Dean’s waist, moving with a fervor as their kiss intensifies.

Dean’s never kissed someone with stubble before, and it feels strange but in the best way possible, tickling and burning slightly, but adding more sensation than he’s used to. All he knows is that this feels right, perhaps more right than anything he’s ever done in his life. He doesn’t want it to end, but they eventually have to pause to breathe, resting their foreheads together and puffing into each other’s faces.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Cas says after a long moment. They both smile into their next kiss and Dean realizes, with sudden clarity, that this is what true happiness feels like.

And it’s a happiness he wouldn’t give up for the world.  


End file.
